PreWedding Jitters
by SomeRandomKyleBroflovskiFan
Summary: Gambling your heart can be a risky business. The stakes are high and you can have it all, or you can end up with nothing. Better have a damn good hand, cause this time it's everything that's on the table." Kyle's POV.Stan/Wendy, Stan/Kyle.SLASH


Hey, guys! Guess who's back! Back again XD lol.

Okay, I know I've been gone for a while, and the last thing I should be doing is starting another fic, but I just couldn't help myself. Know that my other works are still being worked on, as hard as that is to believe. But it's true! I don't know what's wrong with me, and it seems as though this thing that I have has lasted too long to be passed off as writer's block, but I'm trying very hard to overcome it.

Now, believe it or not, but this idea came from the movie, 'Wedding Wars', which I saw last summer. I thought it'd be cool to do something with a gay wedding planner, lol.

So this will have more angst as this fic moves along. I hope that u guys like what I came up with after all this time. It's the best I can do. I really put a lot of work into it.

**Summery: "A party planner, Kyle Broflovski, is thrilled when he is asked to plan his first real wedding. However, maybe things aren't as great as they seem as Kyle finds out that the groom is none other than his childhood best friend, and old college roommate, Stan Marsh - the first boy Kyle had ever been with, and the last one to have ever stolen his heart." Kyle's POV. Stan/Wendy, Stan/Kyle. SLASH.**

Enjoy! :)

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_**Pre-Wedding Jitters**_

**FAG Positive (Prologue):**

Six years... Six goddamn years it's been since we've even spoken to one another. After all this time, I thought I was finally in the clear. I thought I had gotten away, escaping and waking up from my painful nightmare for good. But I didn't even have the slightest idea that it would come back for me if I so much as closed my eyes. But then again, that's usually about the time when these kind of things tend to come back for round two. It fucking always has to be when we least expect it, doesn't it.

Why did I agree to this? Why the hell did I even consider it?

I rolled down the window as I was getting warm and bothered, my clammy palm keeping hold of the wheel, driving along on my way to Attleboro, Massachusetts. I began to swipe and rub at my left eye roughly where I had developed this damn nervous tick, a familiar sinking feeling developing in the pit of my stomach as I drove closer, and closer to my dreaded destination, the wind whipping and slashing against the side of my face angrily.

Things were fine before he came back into my life... _I_ was fine. I had a job that I loved, my own place in Rhode Island, and my family was finally starting to really get used to things, and treat me with acceptance after my coming out to them. He just had to disturb my shit and get married, didn't he? I guess it was inevitable, though. The last time I saw him, he seemed to be so engrossed in the girl he had claimed to be _The One_. Why shouldn't they get hitched? Of course I had reasons why not, but that never seemed to stop him during final year at college...

"Fuck," I muttered.

I twitched at my eye again quickly with the heel of my hand before reaching in my pocket with my shaky fingers for another smoke, bringing it out from its pack and lighting up as a relaxing sensation drew over me, breathing out in a low sigh...

Now, I'm not one of expertise in this particular area, but I am a man of experience. Gambling your heart can be a risky business. The stakes are high, and you can have it all, or you can end up with nothing. Better have a damn good hand, 'cause this time, it's everything that's on the table...

**oOo**

It was during the summer after completing our third year at Ithaca when things started to turn to shit. Our roommates involved in our student housing arrangement were gone for the majority of the vacation, including his girlfriend, Wendy, as we had come back from South Park early to get an extra summer course under our belts before the next semester started. It was just me and my best friend as we walked back to our place from a summer house party, and we were more than a little tipsy.

It was the first thing I really remember, the two of us stumbling down the street. I remember him attempting to take another drag on his already-lit cigarette, only to realize it was no longer in his hand anymore as it was long gone, and dropped somewhere along our hazy journey home. I remember laughing at his confused face. Anything before that, starting from earlier that evening when I went to get my unattractive date another bear, up until our walk back from the party, barely registered at all in my memory until about half a block away from the house when my buzz was starting to wear down.

"Come on, Kyle, what was wrong with that Rebecca girl?" he staggered up the driveway after me.

"Stan, have you even seen that chick's ears? I swear to god, she's a fucking elf," I snickered as I dug in my pocket for my set of keys. Shit, not even all the alcohol in the world is a big enough consumption to help any man look past that girl's looks. "They're just so abnormally big!"

Stan giggled. "Yeah, that's what you said about Bebe and her second toe. Dude, you could'a picked her up. What's with all the lame excuses you come up with for every single girl interes-"

"Hey, shut up. They're not fucking excuses, alright," I cut in defensively.

"Bullshit, Kyle!" he slurred. "One of us could've gotten laid tonight at least, but now because of one small detail, you pass up pussy on a silver plate because her ears are too fucking big?"

"Shut up, man, if you saw her, you'd do the exact same thing."

"Maybe. But you're the single one here, Kyle, not me. You need the action."

I continued to try and jam the pesky key into that damn hole, giggling mostly at the difficulty I was having trying to unlock it. This house had to be the puniest one on the block, but their was plenty room on the inside.

"Yo, what the hell's the hold up?" Stan asked, starting to get antsy.

"Fucking key's not working."

"Lemme try," he shoved me aside, and started to fiddle with the lock himself. "I'd laugh if this wasn't our house."

I chuckled. "Watch, it's not."

"Or watch, it's the wrong key," he sniggered at me. "dumb-ass."

"Oh," I said stupidly. "...Shut up."

"Christ, dude, is that your comeback for everything? Get some new material."

"Just open the door, Stan," I crossed my arms behind him awkwardly.

Even to the present day, I still don't know what attracted me to him in the first place that night. Maybe it was because I felt a certain sense of security around him that I could never get when I was with a girl. Or perhaps the reason was after all this talk of different flaws in my dates, I was just beginning to wonder where on earth were _his_ deformities, or unusual habits? And after all, we had had a fair amount to drink, but I didn't think I had _that_ much.

I wonder if things would be completely different if Stan hadn't drunkenly lost his balance and tripped backwards through the door at that very moment, causing me to fall over him afterwards onto the floor and nearly tumble down the set of stairs leading to the basement. I wonder if my life would still turn out the way it did. Would it be better, would it be worse...?

He groaned under my weight, his front convulsing with small laughs as I tried to push myself up.

"Sorry," I laughed, apologizing for toppling over him.

"S'alright. You okay?"

"Y-yeah... You?"

I received a smile in reply as I hovered over him, frozen in time as we were both trapped in a gaze. I wanted to move off him, or break away from his deep blue eyes right away, but I couldn't. My body just wouldn't move, and my mind just wouldn't think straight. But at the same time, Stan didn't push me up and laugh it off, or turn his stare away from mine awkwardly at any point, indicating that maybe in some way he didn't _want_ me to get up off of him.

Why was it that he seemed so faultless to me, and why was I just beginning to realize it now as I lay there uncomfortably with him? I searched desperately to find one lousy flaw as I looked at him up close, but every feature just seemed to be in place, and shaped beautifully - raven-black hair, alluring eyes with perfectly white teeth... I always noticed every small detail on everybody, but now as I was face to face with my best friend, I was failing miserably at trying to weed out the negatives about his own details. There had to be something... _anything_.

I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out after a long pause had passed as we both became silent. Nothing was heard except the humming of the fridges in the kitchen, and the symphony of crickets outside along with Stan's steadily-paced breathing. I felt the rhythm of his heart pumping blood throughout his body against my ribs as its beats seemed to increase once I slowly started to feel myself being drawn in closer to his parted lips, but then stopped myself midway, having second thoughts.

What the hell was I doing? I seriously needed to stop thinking like a damn fag. I mean, this was _Stan Marsh_, for fuck's sake.

Quickly retreating, blaming my gay thoughts and behavior on the booze in the end, I started to move away, but to my surprise I found myself being pulled back down by the nape of my neck as Stan leaned up and met me halfway in a lovely kiss, causing my eyes to widen at the gesture.

It felt strange at first, but it was a good kind of strange, and I never indicated any signs of hesitation as I closed my eyes and kissed him back as if this wasn't out of the ordinary at all. And in a way, it didn't feel like it was either. It felt downright good in fact.

The kiss was deep and heart-fluttering as I boldly pushed my tongue into his mouth while Stan tangled his fingers through my head of red curls eagerly. It was so much more different than any other kiss I had ever experienced before. The connection was spectacular, and the passion was so intense that I was already beginning to swell up in other places besides within my chest. Stan was quick to follow as I felt his hard on underneath me, growingly stiffening which only turned me on all the more. I started to kiss him fiercely now, pressing my lips into his with heat causing his head to be pushed harder into the floor as Stan removed his fingers from my shaggy hair and sensually slid his hands down to my lower back, and over my ass cheeks, grabbing and attempting to pull them apart through my jeans. He smiled into the kiss with satisfaction as he continued to squeeze my backside, and pressed his erection against the swelling rod in my pants firmly, the door still wide open for anyone who may have caught a glimpse of us making out and groping each other in the center of the doorway...

"Maybe there is a way where both of us can get laid tonight," he panted breathlessly against my lips as I pulled back a touch to focus on his eyes.

He shot a suggestive smile my way, making my stomach practically jump up into my chest as I did my best to roll off of him while Stan used the door for support in getting himself to a standing point before giving me a helping hand up on my feet.

And before I knew it, he had already closed the door shut, and reconnected our lips ardently for another kiss, causing me to stumble backwards and almost trip over a kitchen chair. I breathed harshly into his mouth as I clawed at his shirt and roughly pushed him into the hallway, hitting the fridge in the process causing multiple magnets to fall to the floor while Stan blindly led me to the end of the corridor, slamming my back up against my room's entrance. I searchingly felt for the door handle with my right hand as my other one had its grasp around the back of my best friend's neck, the both of us horny as fuck.

It wasn't long before I had found the silver knob as we had almost fell backward again through the door, barely making it to my bed. Our clothes were quickly pulled off and lost as we both lustfully embraced the other, Stan kissing, and sucking at my neck feverishly while his hands explored my naked body for the first time, over my arms, chest and belly as I clasped my hand around his boner, stroking him slowly and spreading any clear fluids that would drip out over his shaft. He uttered a small moan against my skin, causing a rush of excitement to run up my spine. I hadn't ever heard a sound like that pass Stan's lips for me before, but it was something that gave me more goosebumps than I would have liked to admit at the time as soon as it passed into my ear. We both trembled under each other's touch in the other's arms.

Never had I touched another man's penis in my life besides my own or obviously be penetrated by one before, but by that night everything was about to change for me as I soon welcomed the sensation of being filled for the first time. I gripped his shoulder with one hand and gnarled my fingernails in the bed sheets with the other, letting a whimper escape.

He had asked me if I was alright.

I nodded in response before asking curiously, "How's it feel?"

"Tight."

I breathed a short laugh.

If I had known better back then, I would've savored every little second I had with Stan in my arms. If I ever had the chance to travel back to where it all began, I have no doubt that I would snatch that golden opportunity in a heartbeat just to experience it all one last time. He was perfect. No one ever knew me like he did.

But I did find it, you know - the flaw I looked so fucking hard for. It turned out to be nothing but I small birthmark on his right shoulder, which looked surprisingly a lot like the shape of the United States. But rather than the strange resemblance, I thought it was even more surprising how I didn't even think of it as a flaw in the slightest way to begin with. Instead, I found it to be more like a special feature that only Stan had. And in a way, I also found it to be kind of sexy as a matter of fact.

I groaned quietly while Stan began to caress the crook of my neck using his lips with his face buried in my shoulder as he moaned softly, rolling his hips forward and out, forward and out, each thrust attempting to go deeper than the last into my virgin hole until he was in by the hilt, and his balls were pressed at my ass. Shudders started to wave over me as I held him as close as I could with heat coursing through my body at the same time, passion just building, and building.

"Fuck, Stan," I panted.

It felt weird with a kind of burning sensation from the start, and it was certainly hard on me at first with what little lubrication the condom possessed, but I took it as I tried to relax my muscles as best I could. But like just about anything, when exposed to it for a long enough period of time as desire rose higher, any feelings of pain or uneasiness were starting to decrease and become less noticeable as pleasure seemed to overpower, and consume me in a state of ecstasy.

Everything that happened that night turned out to be a huge turning point of my life. In that small amount of time, I had opened up a whole other world of pleasure, and experienced an orgasm so intense without even touching my fucking dick! And when Stan had reached his own climax closely after mine, both of us sprawled out tiredly side by side on the bed, I started to question myself and the 'boy meets girl' tales everyone always spoke of. I mean, I was beginning to ask myself things like: 'What if all this time by listening to those stories I had ended up, and followed the wrong course?' or 'What if there is no girl? What if it's always going to be like this and her teeth are always gonna be too crooked, or she'll always make unusual, irritating sounds when she cums, or her ears won't ever not be too fucking big?'

I turned to Stan who had already passed out cutely beside me with his mouth slightly open, his heavy breaths turned calmer. I inched closer to him sadly with a scary realization floating around in my head.

Was I really gay for my best friend?

The morning after turned out to be no doubt awkward. I was the first one to awaken as the afternoon sun's rays hit me first through the leaves in the treetops. I wiped away the drool on my face as I squinted, and shielded my eyes from the irritating, direct light as I turned away from the window to face my opposite side to where I met Stan lying beside me, the events of last night rushing, and flashing back into my sore head. I sighed exasperatedly. I didn't like to admit it, but even without my inebriated state, and despite how crappy he looked, I couldn't help but feel charmed by him. My movement seemed to wake him too as he inhaled deeply through his nose and opened his tired, baggy eyes. He linked gazes with me as his hung over eyes seemed to go wider at my presence with a startled jump before his shocked state slowly began to change, and he seemed to crack up with light nervous laughter, rubbing his head through his messed up hair.

"Man, we-uh..." He chuckled with a rasp in his voice. "We got kind of crazy last night, huh?"

I blushed, lowering my head. "Yeah..."

There was an awkward pause before the next words were spoken. "Well, it's not like this means anything," Stan reasoned. "I mean, everyone experiments in college... This shouldn't effect us as friends, right?"

I nodded small as he forced himself up and sluggishly began to get dressed. "Right."

I kept my answers short as I sat up in bed carefully under the covers. Sure experimenting was okay, but it's just that I was nowhere near ready for the possibility that my test results would actually come back positive. Stan seemed to be glad with the reply I had given him, though, as he pulled his jeans up around his waist.

"I gotta get down to the Lost Dog," he sighed as he then went for his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. I could tell he wasn't looking forward to going to work. Who would? But he needed the money, and those sweet potato fries weren't just gonna serve themselves. "I've got an earlier shift today. We'll talk later, yeah?"

It amazed me how easily Stan could keep it cool through an awkward situation such as this. But it was still uncomfortable, though, nonetheless. Or maybe it was just me... "Kay," I said meekly, awkwardly tugging at the sheets.

He started to make his way towards the door, but then stopped himself before turning back to me. "Hey," he spoke to get my attention. "we cool?"

"Yeah," I nodded as I gave him an assuring smile. "we're good."

"Good," he smiled back before leaving my room.

I heard him attempting to get ready as he shuffled around the house. I heard the coffee being made, the aspirin rattling around in the pill bottle he opened, the sound of the peanut butter lid coming off. I swear, peanut butter is like that kid's caffeine in the morning. He needs it...

I sighed as I closed my eyes, lowering myself back down and turning over to bury my face in my pillow while I was stuck to dwell on my complicated situation. I mean, Christ, I chose dick over pussy last night! This was so fucked up...

Although Stan had said this shouldn't screw up our friendship, it was so damn hard not to think of him as more than just a friend anymore. Throughout the rest of the week, I tried to stay clear of him as best I could, thinking I needed some time to get my head on straight. I mean, I found myself running in the opposite direction like a damn coward whenever I'd see him coming my way if he hadn't spotted me yet. Or for the times when I had to be around him, I would barely speak with the exception of a short answer or two as to keep the conversation small. I didn't want to risk sounding like an idiot in front of him whenever I'd open my mouth, or let these queer thoughts of mine slip out accidentally.

But Stan noticed this odd behavior of course, which he made clear one day as it had been almost about a week now that I continued to avoid him. He approached me when I was sitting on the grass on campus with my back up against a tree while studying as I relaxed with a cigarette, flicking off excess ash. I thought it would be better here than doing it back at the house with Stan around, and at least I could smoke out here unlike in the library.

"Hey," I heard a voice as a shadow moved over me, blocking me from what little light I had as I was already in the shade.

As soon as I looked up to see who it was, my heart instantly skipped a beat as I came face to face with my best friend. Looks like my idea to study out of the house didn't entirely work the way I wanted it to. His smile was soft and friendly as he knelt down to my eye-level and sat next to me against the oak's aged bark, his outer arm slightly brushing my tense one.

"Can I bum one off you?" he asked, referring to the smoke I had in my mouth.

"I thought Wendy didn't like you smoking," I said in a small voice as I retrieved my pack of cigs from my pocket.

Stan took one and held it to his lips as I gave him a light, cupping the flame from any summer breezes that would pass. "Do you see her anywhere?" he pointed out after taking a first drag. "And anyway, she doesn't care so long as I don't do it around her. Perfect time to light up, right?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

I turned back to my studies as a way to break away from his captivating gaze, but not for long, however, as Stan spoke up again.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Kyle?"

"Huh?" I looked back up at him, confused. But when I saw his expression, he didn't seem angry or upset, but rather sad and puzzled.

"I thought we were okay... I thought we agreed our- _incident_ wouldn't effect us as friends."

I sighed exasperatedly. "Look Stan, can we please just talk about this later?"

"No," he shook his head. "I won't let you hide from me, Kyle. I won't let one stupid, drunken mistake fuck up 16 years of being best friends... Dude, please, all I want is to go back to normal again."

I lowered my head sadly, staring at nothing in particular. If it was all just a mistake, then why did it seem so right? If it was stupid, then why did I have to take it so seriously? And if 16 years is at risk of being fucked up, then how come everything already is? I may have initially thought Stan was absolutely flawless, but I was just beginning to see how incredibly clueless and stupid he was. But at the same time as I came to see these traits clearly, never once did I despise them. No matter how much I wanted to like I usually did, I couldn't. I liked every little trait there was about him, which made him perfect to me - faults and all. I hated so much how I couldn't hate him.

"Come on, Kyle, let's just forget this whole thing ever happened," he said, trying so hard to erase the recent past. "I couldn't ever stand not having you as a friend."

I could feel tears spring to my eyes as I listened to him, but I blinked them away before sadly looking up at him to find such seriousness and desperation in his eyes. "I can't stand it either," I sighed softly.

"Then let's not wreck everything we've got by throwing it all away when we've already come so far... Come on, what'd you say, man?"

I lowered my head again. Stan wanted so much to fix this. And I agreed that it was dumb to toss something like this after everything we've been through, but it just seemed so damn hard. The way I saw it, I only had two options. Either I could leave and throw away a friendship I've had for almost my entire life, or stay, and watch as I shatter to pieces? Forfeit, or stay and play the game? Either way, I didn't really have much of a chance at winning...

"...Okay," I finally spoke, stepping onto the game field numbly, knowing for sure I would get creamed.

I sensed Stan break out into a grin of relief beside me as I tamped out my smoked down fag into the dirt before I was pulled into him and received a tight squeezing embrace, making my heart soar. I reached up toward my chest to where his arm wrapped across and around my further shoulder, which pinned my own arms at my sides and gave him an awkward pat on the forearm, uncomfortable about how I was slightly shuddering just from his closeness and the fact that I actually enjoyed having his arms around me like this.

But he must have sensed my uneasiness because almost immediately he backed off, moving away hastily as he remembered how weirded out I was about these types of gestures or behaviors.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly.

"I-it's cool..." I frowned with nervousness. I wish it hadn't stopped so abruptly.

He smiled my way warmly before extending a hand instead. "Best friends?"

I cracked a smile of my own in return. "Till the end." I shook his hand in agreement.

Although, when I had made the decision to stick around, I may have known what I was getting myself into, but I had no idea it would hurt this much. Throughout the rest of the summer, I grew to care for Stan more and more with every day of every week. I grew to understand feelings I used to consider to be an unworthy burden. And for a select few moments of these days in these weeks, I was almost certain that he could feel it too, because I could've sworn I saw it in his eyes. But it is true that people will see what they want to see, and it is a true possibility that my certainty was only a sight I so desperately wished to perceive. But that doesn't necessarily make it real. And as summer school went by and was coming to its end, so too would the hopes I built up as I would watch them come crashing down...

It was after work one evening after exams were over when Stan, and I had made the dumb decision to cook for ourselves. We had found what seemed like an easy recipe for cookies on the girls' fridge, and with the picture of that oatmeal chocolate chip chewy goodness pasted on the paper the ingredients were written on, it wasn't long before our mouths were watering, and we found ourselves making the attempt at cooking them. It seemed simple enough at first. However, after all, rather than melting in your mouth like the picture implied that it would, I think our crappy outcome could've broken a jaw instead.

I looked around at the mess we had made as I sat with Stan by my side in the kitchen, flour and dough covering the counter and parts of the floor as the sound of the TV blared in the other room.

"Dude, these piece-of-shit cookies were not worth the trouble," I spitted out the bite I had taken from the revolting baked good I held, tossing it towards the trash can and making a perfect shot as I made a mental note to go the store bought route next time.

"They will be if we decide to give 'em to the next oblivious douche bag we see," Stan said with a mischievous grin covering his irresistible face.

I laughed. "Who the hell in their right mind would eat this junk?"

"Who wouldn't?" he shrugged as he looked back down at the plate. "I mean, if you look at them they don't look so bad, and with the way you presented them so neatly they actually look kind of appealing."

A self-consious smile crept onto my lips as he complimented my knack for organization. "Well, there's more to these than meets the eye."

"They don't have to know that. Just smother them in icing and they're good to go... until they meet the mouth."

I turned in my seat to lean forward on my forearms on the wooden table's surface with another, but this time thoughtful, smile. I guess it would be kind of funny to watch some innocent soul eat this crap. But in the end, it turned out to be fun in a way with just the two of us hanging out even if we didn't get the delicious, chewy aftermath of this whole baking idea...

"Uh, dude," Stan chuckled. "you still got some of that flour on your face."

"What?" I touched my jaw with my fingertips. "Where?"

"Right here," he pointed to one side of his own face.

I felt around in search of that smudge of flour with some difficulty. "Where?" I asked again.

"Here," he sighed with a couple small laughs. "let me."

As he reached out his hand to wipe it off, I must have been startled, sending my heart into a racing panic of anticipating his touch. I turned my head and jerked away out of reach quickly as my forehead came in contact with the wall right beside me, creating a bash. I breathed in through my teeth in pain, cringing.

"Jesus, Kyle," he scooted his chair closer, lifting my head up as I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh at me. "are you okay?"

I laughed mostly out of embarrassment as I looked up at him carefully with somewhat of a smile, my cheeks starting to redden. "I-I'm fine."

"No blood," he remarked as he examined my head.

He then began to stroke my blushing cheek with his thumb as I froze, my insides trembling with nervousness. I raised my eyes to his, and looked back at him shyly with an anxious pounding in my chest. I didn't want to move from fear he might stop touching me in this way. I felt warm because of it. And then I saw it - that specific look in his eyes, making them look beautiful and deep. That look... It captivated me, making me believe maybe there was a possibility that I wasn't crazy, that maybe he felt what I felt. My whole world seemed to stop, but at the same time the moment went by far too quickly...

"Got it," he said as everything went back to regular speed, and my dream bubble popped as I was let down when I realized it was all just to wipe that damn flour off my face. I felt stupider by the minute as I my cheeks began to burn even more while Stan wiped his hand on the leg of his jeans. I suppose my mind was only playing tricks on me.

And just when I thought I had been let down enough, who should show up, and come bursting through the door with bags in hand? The person I was least expecting to see with her long, soft, night sky hair, cheerful chocolate brown eyes, and a beautiful wide grin, showing her pearly whites. Wendy Testaburger - my best friend's girlfriend, who I had successfully pushed out of my mind for the moment up until then.

"Guess who?" she sang out, reminding me of a similar greeting my cousin, Kyle always used. Although, her voice was more feminine and sweet, but it still gave me the same reaction - widened eyes, frozen in the spot, and yelling obscenities inside my head.

Stan turned immediately in his seat, and spread a real smile in surprise and delight as he shot up and walked over to her and into her embrace.

"Hey," he grinned excitedly as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist.

My heart sunk as I rose to my feet slowly and frowned as I watched him give her a good loving kiss.

"I missed you," she smiled in his arms.

He smiled back warmly. "missed you too, babe."

I felt nauseous.

This was unbelievable. I had been anticipating this day for this whole time. And now that my opponent had actually stepped up to play, I had gone down and lost as the game had only just begun. But then again, what did I expect? I knew this would happen and all. I just thought there might have been the slightest chance after the summer Stan and I had spent together. But with his girlfriend in the picture, it was a whole other painting and I only got pushed out of it. How could I have been so foolish, thinking I could actually stand a chance at winning this game against Wendy? I was stupid to believe.

She took a whiff as she slid her light jacket off from her thin arms. "Mmm, have you guys been making cookies?" she asked as she came towards me with open arms, the enthusiastic, wide greeting smile returning to her delicate face. "Hey, Kyle!" She gave me a tight hug as if to say, 'good game'.

"Hey," I mustered a smile of my own and returned the gesture, her sweet-smelling perfume entering my nose as I was this close to offering her one of those things that were supposedly cookies. "you're back early..." I must've sounded so disappointed rather than happy.

Wendy didn't seem to notice, though. "I know. I thought I might come back up here a little earlier. Maybe surprise you guys."

Stan grinned at this.

Yeah, it sure as hell was a surprise, although, I don't think 'pleasant' was the best word to describe her arrival.

Stan offered to help her with her bags and unpack, which his girlfriend gladly accepted. I watched as he picked up what seemed like the most heavy ones as she took her handbag, the both of them walking towards the upstairs to her room with her sporting a suggestive smile towards him over her shoulder. I caught this connection between them, and quickly piped up, asking if they needed any help. The last thing I needed was for him to actually be fucking her with the bedsprings squeaking while I was right there on the first floor underneath them.

Stan glanced back at me and grinned as he followed his girlfriend climbing up the stairs. "Nah, it's cool, man. We've got it from here." He gave me a sly wink before he eagerly started to catch up to Wendy.

And they were both out of sight as I heard the door shut while I was left standing in the mess of the kitchen, fuming. I glared at the top of the staircase and balled my fists tightly, my knuckles turning bone-white. Everything was back to normal again where I was only second best. I hated to settle for that place in his heart, but I hated even more that he ranked first place in my own. These past several weeks seemed so unreal as if I had dreamt it all. It seemed as though not even the craziest of things that's happened over the course of time could change this shitty reality I was stuck with. It almost felt like none of it ever even happened... only it did, and it felt like such a _stupid_ waste of time.

I scanned the room around me at the leftovers of this dream and then down at the cookies on the table, touching them through the plastic wrap they had been protected with on the plate. My vision began to blur with tears of sadness and frustration as I clawed them under my palm, and gritted my teeth.

"Fuck," I choked angrily with my tears on the edge of my eyelids. My throat was tightened as I broke the cookies in my firm grasp, stretching the clear plastic around them and nearly ripping it before letting out another great big, "_Fuck!_"

I shoved them to the side and off the table furiously and slammed the wooden surface with an angry fist, the whole lot of them meeting the floor, and the clatter of the plastic plate sounded through my ears as I fell into the seat of my chair. I buried my face in my arms on the tabletop as I wept, letting my sobs escape and be muffled by the television in the living room, and by my forearms that were covered by the long sleeves of my shirt, collecting my teardrops in the worn materiel.

I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't want everything that's happened to come true. I felt stupid, my stomach hollow, and my heart heavy. I didn't know I would care like this, enough to feel so empty inside. I didn't know how to deal with such a hurt that was this strong. But I guess that's what I get for falling for my best friend...

After that night I grew to be more distant towards Stan again, only not because I was afraid and nervous around him this time, but because of how shitty I felt. It was so fucking hard to so much as be in the same room with him and Wendy, so I much rather preferred to avoid the house completely, using work as a main excuse for my absence. But when I actually was there, I usually would spend most of my time in my room. And as the new semester started, I used studying as my new favorite explanation for my behavior. Call me a fag hiding in the closet, if desired. I, however, liked to look at it as being 'busy', which is what I had told Stan when he realized something was definitely up with me, but I don't think he bought my bullshit as he gave me a weird look after I had tried to explain why I had been acting so strangely and unavailable lately. But what was I supposed to say? It was too soon to come out yet.

And I was careful with my trail. I made sure of it. I took care in making sure every gay porno site, or chat room I had entered was erased from my computer history, and my personal shopping list was hidden away safely, which listed things like: butt plugs, disposable enemas, a thicker water-based lubricant, and so on. But however careful I was, I wasn't nearly careful enough.

A day I had gone to run some errands to restock the guys' fridge, and for some more cigarettes, I figured I could easily take a detour to buy the other stuff on my own list. It was just harmless multitasking, right? It would be easy, which it was, and I had no problems buying everything that was needed for myself and the others. However, after buying my things, I never should've left them unguarded for a second.

I came through the front door with the few plastic bags in hand, so I set them on the table and started to take out a few foods. While I went to put some things in the fridge, Stan emerged from the other room behind me.

"Hey, man," he greeted me.

"Hey," I replied without turning my head as I went to put the carton of milk in the refrigerator next.

Stan began to dig through the bags, looking for the special request he had made for more peanut butter. "Dude, you made it just in time. I was going through some major withdrawal."

"No, Stan," A jolt of fear hit me hard in the chest as I turned around to stop him from going through that one bag I had left unattended. "that's not-"

I cut myself short when I had seen that it was already too late as Stan had brought out a purple dildo, shock covering his face as those beautifully sweet eyes that I had grown to love had gone wide with what looked like fear. My heartbeat sped up, and its pumps were about the only thing I could hear as we were both speechless. My cheeks were absolutely flushed as I remained frozen uncomfortably, unsure of what exactly to say while Stan stood there gaping with this rubber dick in his hand, which flopped to one side in his grasp.

"We-uh... We supposed to eat this?" he joked nervously as he turned his uneasy gaze to me, attempting to break the tension.

I didn't laugh as I tried my hardest to avoid eye contact with him. "Stan... I'm sorry..."

"For what?" he asked. Although, his words didn't sound kind and meaningful, but rather unsure and hollow. I looked up at him cautiously. Both hands were uncomfortably at his sides now as the purple sex toy was left on the table. "Th-there's nothing to be sorry for, Kyle."

I lowered my head away from his nervous eyes. I didn't speak. I could tell he was weirded out around me right now despite his efforts to be understanding and accepting as he began to fidget with his sleeves.

Stan steered clear of my eyes as well now, the awkwardness in the room seeming to grow stronger until he muttered something about finding the peanut butter, and taking off without some bread, or even a knife as it was obvious he was only using the stuff just to get the hell out of that kitchen and away from me. And I didn't blame him either.

I let my shoulders drop in a sigh as I finally allowed myself to relax, and looked down at my feet sadly.

"Shit," was all I could say in a small whisper to myself. I had fucked up big time.

My back end had started to grow numb as I realized that the refrigerator was still wide open, and was nearly freezing my ass off. Slowly closing the door behind me, I leaned against the fridge with my hands behind my back, embarrassed, feeling like the worst piece of crap as I continued to stare at my feet in shame.

All because of my carelessness, it was unlikely that Stan would ever look at me the same way again...

I couldn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned restlessly under my sheets, kicking them off frustratedly with an exasperated sigh as I turned onto my back and stared up at the ceiling tiredly. The moon, and the streetlight outside that seeped directly into my room seemed too bright together. I found myself wishing for that damn lamppost to burn out, or for the city to have a power-outage. Either one would be good.

"Fuck," I dragged out a long groan, flopping my hands onto my pillow on either side of my head.

I turned my gaze towards the clock on my nightstand beside me to realize that it had only been a minute since the last time I checked it. The digital numbers shone in red, teasing me as it continued to watch me suffering for almost an hour and a half now trying to get to sleep.

But how could I rest after today? Could anyone really blame me for not being able to sleep after losing a best friend? I mean, christ, he couldn't even look at me after what happened at all. For once, Stan couldn't handle an awkward situation nonchalantly like he usually could. It almost seemed hard to believe, but at the same time nothing could be more expected from him.

But maybe it was all for the better. Maybe I should've been happy that Stan would finally be leaving me alone from now on, but still at the same time, a part of me was having a hard time letting him go.

I began to chew the inside of my bottom lip, still in thought as the urge to yawn came over me.

I would be okay. All I had to do was finish my final year, and then it would finally be over. I could leave here and find a place on my own. Somewhere where I wouldn't have to face Stan again until he would be forgotten and out of my mind for good, and I could finally be able to move forward. Just a little bit more. Just a little bit further and I'd be gone. The only thing that was keeping me here was my diploma, and nothing else.

I frowned, and let out another big sigh as I rested my hands underneath my head before I heard a small knock at my bedroom door.

"Yeah," I mumbled lazily as I kept my tired eyes fixed on the ceiling.

I heard the knob turn as I shifted my gaze to find a wide-awake Stan standing in my doorway, his hair ruffled, and his stance cautious. I sat right up as soon as I realized who was there, causing myself to get a bit of a head rush while I readjusted myself on the bed.

"Hey," he spoke first with a small smile.

I was surprised to see him. "Hey," I said a little skeptically, my reply unintentionally coming out in a whisper as I had lost my voice for just a second.

"Can I-uh... Can I come in?"

"Sure..." I must've looked so dumbfounded.

As he shut the door behind himself, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and let my bare feet touch the cold floor, my hands laying limply upon my knees. When I looked down nervously at my toes, I felt the bed shift as I sensed him sit beside me on my left. To my surprise, he was sitting so close that if I spread my legs just a little further, our thighs might've brushed. I found it to be rather bold of him at first until after a second or two later, he thought it might've been a little too close, and I felt him move his weight before I looked up, watching him slide away a seat.

Even in the darkness of the room with the moonlight, and lamppost, I could see his cheeks begin to flush as he brought himself to look at me. The silence that surrounded us was awkward. Stan looked like he was desperately trying to say something, but nothing came out. I initially waited for his words, but after about a minute of nothing, my patience was starting to wane as my feeling of uncomfortableness built up higher.

Didn't the humiliating moment of today last long enough? Why was Stan adding on more of this when the incident in the kitchen was long gone and over?

"Stan," I finally spoke quietly, but firmly. "What is it that you want?"

The boy beside me reached up to the nape of his neck absentmindedly. "You know, I don't even know. I... I couldn't sleep... I-I mean, I just thought... In the kitchen earlier..." he sighed, seeming unpleased at how his words were coming out in little spurts as he struggled to come up with an actual sentence, only to let out a single word in one breath. "Why?"

I was still enough to hear my pulse as he looked me straight in the eye for the first time since he had come in, and it made my stomach churn with guilt. "...What?" I heard myself ask, but it was weak, and barely audible at all.

His stare held disappointment as the light outside reflected in his beautiful sable hair. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I..." I began to defend myself, only to end up trailing off pretty quickly.

I was at a lost for words, and as the awkward silence presented itself again, it was starting to get hard to look directly at him anymore with that look on his face as if I had done something rotten to him. I felt cornered as I started to look down at my feet on the floor once again, blushing while I frantically searched for something more to say, mentally giving myself a series of slaps to the face for ever letting Stan find that stupid dildo.

"...I couldn't," was all that came out in a wavered whisper. I could feel his eyes on me, and it made me feel so exposed, and ashamed. "I just _couldn't_, alright?"

"Kyle," I heard him say my name more gently.

I swallowed nervously as the blush on my cheeks was starting to consume more of my face bit by bit.

He sighed. "Listen, Im sorry, okay? The way I reacted... I just didn't know how to handle it," he said. "I mean, I've never actually had a gay friend before, really. But now that I do... Look, I just want you to know that... that you can always trust that I'll be by your side, man. You're still my best friend.

By this time, I had turned my eyes back onto Stan, who now wore a warm smile, sweet and sincere. I heaved a frustrated sigh, casting down my eyes sadly.

That's all I'll ever be, won't it? Just a friend.

Tears of distress quickly found their way to my eyes, feeling a tightening around my heart as I balled my hands into fists.

Why the hell did he have to be so fucking nice to me anyway? Why couldn't he just tell me I was a stupid cock-sucking queer, and never speak to me again? I was getting tired of all this. Watching Stan and knowing we could never be more than friends was torture, however, his words and gestures of kindness only made my heart ache all the more painfully for him. It was one thing to know I could never have him, but to constantly be reminded of how far I had fallen for him, how sweet he was to even a dumb little faggot like me made it hard to forget and move on. I hated this! It was like I was being taunted, and it was just plain cruel!

"Dude, what's the matter?" Stan asked, sounding worried as I hadn't responded to his apology. "You alright?"

He put a caring hand on my shoulder as I started to shake my head. "No," I choked out, pushing his hand off of me and looking up at him angrily, and teary-eyed. "No, I'm not alright, Stan! I'm never _all-fucking-right_!" I was in tears now, and at that moment, I didn't care whether he saw it or not. I was getting sick of pretending that everything was okay, and for once, I wished things could be exactly the way they were behind every fake smile and forced laugh. "I can't _do_ this shit anymore!"

Stan, shocked by my outburst, tried to calm me down. "Kyle," he said, his voice in a hushed tone as he moved closer with concern. "hey, it's okay. It's okay... Just try and keep it down. The others are sleeping," he tried to get me to be more quiet.

"No, fuck you, Stan!" I stood up as to get away from him, not caring if anyone heard me. Let them hear. Let the whole fucking street hear my anger. "It's not okay! _Nothing's_ okay!" I was sobbing now as I chanted the same thing over and over. "I can't do this! I just _can't_! I can't fucking do this anymore, Stan!!"

"Hey," he whispered, standing up as well as he grabbed me by the arm forcefully, and turned me around to pull me into his warm embrace. "hey..."

I resisted, trying to push him away, but he kept me in place as he squeezed me hard against him with no intentions of letting me go. My hands were between him and me as they were pressed against his front, trying to push against him, but he only constricted me tighter.

"Fuck you, Stan," I cried into his chest as my strength started to weaken, and I stopped struggling against him, and began to cling to him with my fingernails, clawing into the material of his t-shirt desperately. "Fuck you."

My head was bowed as he rested his chin just above my hairline now that I had stopped fighting him. His words and hushes were consoling to me as I continued to shed my tears, lost in his forbidden touch, his voice, his scent... I wish he didn't have this power over me. I wish he would just slap me good and hard across the face for being a such crying gay pussy, and give me a reason to hate him. But he didn't. He only held me close in his arms, stroking my back with one hand, and my head with the other as his fingers ran over my red curls.

I had started to calm down now as I stood there encircled in Stan's strong arms. I sniffled and shook vulnerably as I gingerly repositioned my arms, and squeezed him back tightly, resting my head on his shoulder, and nuzzling my face into his neck. His breath was right by my ear now, and it's warmth gave me chills as he continued to smoothen both his hands along my back comfortingly, moving one up my spine to the nape of my neck. Inhaling his scent was mind-numbing, and intoxicating to me as I breathed him in, my head growing clouded. I let my sore eyes close sleepily as I was happy to just be there with him.

I had never felt so safe, and loved.

I felt his day-old stumble brush across the side of my face as he pulled away to look at me directly, his eyes half-lidded. And there was that look again. Those beautiful gazing eyes were really starting to have a huge effect on me. I could've stared into them forever, lost and mesmerized, but instead of keeping our eye-contact, I found myself breaking it, and replacing it with lip-contact...

My heart was pounding, and flying up and beyond reach as I was happy to be in a place I had longed to be in for a while with my lips pressed up against his. But anything that went up, had to come down sooner or later, and in my case, it was sooner than I would've liked when Stan pulled away from me and lowered his head.

"Ky... don't," he said. And my heart came crashing down. "Don't do this."

My eyes widened at my actions as I backed away and out of his arms. "I'm sorry," my voice trembled softly.

What had I done? What the hell was I thinking?

But I don't think I was so much shocked at what I did rather than the fact that the cold hard truth was out in the open now, and had stung me pretty bad. No more kidding myself. No more 'what ifs'. It was as clear as a bell now that Stan Marsh could never love me the way I loved him. It was official.

The tears were coming back to my eyes, but I wasn't angry this time. I was embarrassed, and devastated. My breaths had become shaky with my heart painfully sunken in my chest as I tried my hardest to avoid his eyes by looking downward, feeling the need to disappear.

"I'm sorry," I apologized again as I turned around to make a move for the door. I desperately needed to be anywhere but here. I had never left a room so fast in my life.

"Kyle!" I heard him calling after me, but I ignored it as I hurried as fast as I could out of the house, leaving Stan behind in my room.

I had never felt so fucking hurt... Rejection is a hard thing to accept, and a heavy heart is a very hard thing to carry...

**oOo**

I wiped away any evidence that I had been crying with my wrist as I threw the last of my cigarette out the window, the state line coming into sight, which told me I was entering Massachusetts. I swallowed nervously with that same plummeting feeling in my stomach, which only grew stronger now.

That night was the worst of them all, but after that rocky point, things only got smoother from there on out. I mean, it was never the same between Stan, and I again, and our friendship never really fully recovered, but with time, things started patch up slowly. He never mentioned any of the things that happened between us to Wendy, or anyone else in the household, and neither did I. Although, I did think about it a lot - the immoral things we had done, I mean. I couldn't stop thinking about him no matter how many dates I went on, and tried to put my full focus on another guy. My head always seemed to drift back to Stan. Even now, I still think about him sometimes, and wonder what could've been. Even though it's been forever since we've seen each other, I still care about him... I still care about him a lot. Since Stan, I haven't felt that way for another for a long time in my past relationships. But I guess that's what first loves will do to you...

As graduation had neared, I remembered that Stan had recently asked Wendy to live with him while he continued to go to school to become a veterinarian. She accepted without hesitation. Meanwhile, I had already started to move my things out to my cousin's in Connecticut. I was in no mood in staying any longer than I needed to.

After the ceremony, Stan had come up to me in his robe, and congratulated me with a hug and a pat on the back. I returned it, knowing that this would be goodbye.

"So, you going to the party afterward?" he had asked, referring to the grad party that night at Clyde's.

"Yeah, I might," I had said, although, I didn't tell him that it was unlikely that I'd make it. I was already planning to have left by then.

I hated to lie to him, but I loved the way I made him smile widely with my reply, and that was the way I wanted to leave things between us. I wanted to end it with a smile, and I never really was any good with goodbyes...

When I came back, I had continued to pack up the rest of my things, and loaded them into the car, leaving my bed, dresser, and desk as I had sold them to the next guy who'd be living there. And that was it. All that was left to do was to leave my key for the landlady. I had left it on the table in the kitchen for her when I heard someone come in. It was Wendy. She almost looked upset. I quickly picked up the key, and held it behind my back. In the last week or so I spent packing, and moving my things to my cousin's attic, it was nothing new to see my car fully loaded. But to see my key left here would be a sure sign that I was moving out for good, and I didn't want to go through with that awkward parting.

"Hi, Kyle," she had said.

"Uh, hey," I had returned the greeting, feeling rather guilty for what I was about to do without saying anything to anybody.

She had made herself a glass of water as she scratched just under her right eye. "God, it's crazy how fast time can go by, isn't it? I mean, it feels like such a short time ago since we moved in here." She took a sip from the cup.

"Yeah," I nodded in response. "I know what you mean."

Wendy set the small cup into the sink, and smiled sincerely before saying, "So I'll see you at the party, right?"

She began to walk towards the bathroom as she tied her hair up into a bun, and it took me a few seconds to answer. "...Right," I confirmed. "see you there."

"Jesus, I must look like such a mess," she muttered to herself, touching across her cheek before she closed the washroom door.

I sighed in relief, and frowned as I brought the key back out, and placed it back on the table. I was out of there before she could emerge back out from that door.

Leaving almost everything that I knew behind was hard. But if I didn't sever the attachments, there would've been no chance in moving on with my life. I had to start anew, and the only way to do that was to cut the bond I had made with Stan, and everyone else who knew him. It was never easy to cut through something as strong as what we had, but it was something that had to be done.

On the car ride to Connecticut, I eventually received a phone call on my cell. I went to answer it, but immediately decided against it once I saw that it was Stan who was calling on the other end. I guessed he had realized that I was gone by then. Instead of answering it, I hit the ignore button, and it killed me when I did that before turning the device off completely. But it killed me even more to delete every single voicemail he had left without even listening to any of them once I had thought it was safe to turn my phone back on. Eight to be exact. Eight messages I had received from Stan, and eight messages I had erased.

I couldn't help from crying the rest of the way there, but I tried to remind myself that the beginning was the hardest, and that it would only get easier with time...

Now here I was again, only this time I wasn't driving off, and leaving my old life behind. This time I was coming back to face it all. You can only run away from your past for so long. It only takes a matter of time before it catches up to you...

Eventually, I had reached Attleboro, which is where the engaged couple resided at the present time. The welcoming words across the sign gave me a shiver of anxiousness down my spin as I passed through.

Unfortunately for me, it was my mother who had gave me away. Just a few weeks ago, she had called me with exciting news. As someone who made their living by planning parties, it was my dream to be able to have the opportunity to organize an actual wedding. When she had told me over the phone that she had found a couple who were looking for a wedding planner, I practically shouted into the phone with excitement, asking if she was actually serious. She said to expect their call around sometime in the next week. Only thing was, as soon as I got that call, my enthusiasm that I had held for the past few days faded almost immediately as well as my grin once I had picked up, and recognized that familiar masculine voice on the other line.

I agreed to meet with them, but I was reluctant about the whole situation. I had gotten out of this mess six years ago, and now here I was, aiming straight for the lion's fucking den. I was either pretty damn brave, or pretty damn stupid.

My eye had become sore now, and I was starting to get chilled from the window being open too long as I rolled it back up. Coming up to my turnoff, I picked up the paper with the directions scribbled on it, which Wendy had relayed to me over the phone as I stopped at the red light. I memorized the next little bit that was written down before dropping it beside me on the passenger's seat again, and leaned back tiredly against the headrest with one hand on the wheel, the other massaging my forehead and temple.

Christ, it would be so simple to just let go of the break, and drive straight into the traffic. It would be so simple to just avoid this whole get-together by getting hit in an accident. I know that as soon as I see him, everything I've worked to overcome will be gone down the drain, and I will fall head over heals all over again. And I know for a fact that it would be less painful to get hit than seeing him gaze at her lovingly, and sweetly kiss her, and then to watch him marry her...

I have no idea how I'm going to handle this, but it's something I'm going to have to deal with. I know this won't be some bullshit story like you read about, or see on television. No, this was real life. And in real life, the groom of the wedding doesn't fall in love with the gay guy on the sidelines. In real life, there is no dramatic entrance with the one barging in, yelling heroically, _'I object!'. _No, in real life, the groom marries the bride he asked to be his wife from the beginning just like it should be. It's as simple as that. It's people like me that don't get a happily ever after in my situation. And it's people like Stan who don't go for people like me. I learned that the hard way.

--

Holy crap, I didn't mean for the prologue to be that long. Ah, well. I don't have the heart to erase it and make it shorter.

But anyway, there you have it. I have no idea when the next chapter will be since my writing is so fucking slow at this time, but I'm trying my best with this, and other fics, especially Stay. I hope my writer's block hasn't made my writing too shitty. Also, since my internet is gone, it might take me a little while to scrounge up a connection to reply to your reviews (I had to go over to Klick just to fucking upload this thing)... that is if I actually get reviews, and y'all haven't forgotten about me, lol.

So please tell me, have I lost my touch? Or am I still the same SRKBF? Please, I'd love to hear from each and every one of you :).

Peace Out!:P

PS

StanXKyle4eva!XD


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